Photographing one's mother is an intimate act. It is also very intimate to photograph a corpse. I imagine that photographing ones own dead mother must feel doubly intimate. It seems to me that when composing your mother’s dead body for a shot, the photographic act becomes an act of love while also being an act of preservation and abstraction. Complex emotions are present, albeit mitigated by the realities of lens and lighting as well as the structures of aesthetics.